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6:00 a.m. and the awful rise The sun an oily headlight Its greasy wattage etching out the corners of a room It is the fifth notch of day in a sleepless week that breaks me My mother spoons cereal and eats A pale 23 years old, I have been weak, sick, exhausted for weeks, dense months, and finally a year My only motions are twists and shallow breaths At the top of the week the dentitst dissected my mouth My mother digging at breakfast feeds for the day with fourth graders She will have to maintain her composure in less than an hour My jaw and gumline hammer and hammer I have bled from the mouth through the night and since Monday In a cup on my bookcase my wisdom teeth I've been to three doctors through the year including a balding neurologist My blood flows routinely Brain waves are everyday static My piss is clean But my head is a can of bees and has been so for a year My mother is into the paper reading and in a bathrobe My body at times falters It is tired Up ten stairs yesterday my legs were rusty girders Unhinged motionless weight and not one doctor with the aid of antidepressants can offer me peace Not one night without sand sifting through my brain And the dentist is the one who defeats me I come to my mother sitting in the early morning and I pace SHe knows I am uncollected I brace and know it is coming like tar in fat throaty bubbles from my mouth and nostrils She witnesses my folding Buckets of shadow I sob and choke in my mother's lap. -Tom Cadmus 
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